One Thing Before You Go
by DustySalmon
Summary: Maybe Dutch loved this woman, or maybe he just needed her to be around him. Whatever that was, nothing in their relationship was like before.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"This is a damn cluster fuck, Arthur !"

"You're tellin' me !"

They were completely surrounded by O'Driscolls, Colm's voice was all over Dutch and for once, he didn't have an exit plan. The leader of the the opposite gang was not here to talk, they were done with that, today they had come to put an end to the feud. Permanently.

From the Van der Linde gang Bill Williamson was there, as always, Hosea, Sadie and Arthur. The others were at camp, or on another job. This one was supposed to be an easy one, but turned out it was a trap. It seemed that a lot of 'easy' jobs went bonkers lately. It was not the first time the O'Driscolls screwed them over. At some point, Dutch had started to wonder if Colm was really that good or if they had just grown lazy. O'Driscoll had been on their trail for weeks, following them since Colter and Horseshoe.

Bullets were flying over Dutch's head, one ending up right in his hat, making it fall to the ground. He was only physically present at this point. He looked at Hosea, who was fighting like a lion. Everyone was but it was not enough. Was this really the end for them ?

The gang leader looked both ways, trying to find something that could had least serve as distraction and give them time to fall back. One thing was sure, today was not the day he was gonna get rid of Colm O' fucking Driscoll. The reversed possibility though, was much more realistic at this point. Dutch didn't even have any dynamite left to throw, and bullets were starting to miss seriously.

"Hosea ! Any last ideas, old friend ?" He screamed to his long time partner who was barely hidden behind a barrel

"I'm afraid not ! Sorry, Dutch"

The latter cursed under his breath. The only thing he could think about now was all the opportunities he had had to kill Colm. He should have put an end to this a long, long time ago. Unfortunately it was too late to regret.

Suddenly Colm's laughs turned into cries of fear, making Arthur and the others look at each other dumbfoundedly.

"Everybody watch out for the galtin' !" O'Driscoll yelled in horror. And then the thundering sound of raining bullets was the only sound that could be heard. The first wave stopped after what felt like hours, at least for Colm's boys.

"What is going on out there ?" Hosea whispered towards Dutch who shrugged, "can anybody see ?"

"Have you had enough you bunch of dixie-whistling hillbillies, or d'you want some more ?!" A strong female voice shouted in the distance.

Instantly they both knew, and boy, were they happy to hear that voice. Dutch, sensing that it was safe enough, rose a little from his hiding spot, glancing towards where the voice was coming. When he saw her face, he couldn't help but smile and thank God for that miracle. Without any warning, the young woman engaged a second in a second wave, destroying every piece of wood, skin and bones that was showing. It didn't take long for the remaining O'Driscolls, including that damn Colm to run for their lives and disappear with their horses in the woods.

Arthur helped Hosea up and laughed at Bill who was breathing hard on the ground, not even bothering to try and get up. He had seen too much for the day, hell, for the week.

Dutch holstered his guns and walked towards the chariot carrying the heavy gun. He helped the woman off of it, hands on her waist, knowing that she could have managed just fine on her own. They studied each other for a brief moment, both coming to the conclusion that they hadn't changed. After all, it had only been a little more than a year since they last saw each other. It was good to reunite.

"Well, well, if that ain't the incorrigible Miss Margaret Burns !" Dutch said enthusiastically, pulling her in a warm embrace that she returned.

"It's good to see you all" Margaret said, hugging Arthur and Hosea. The latter introduced her to Sadie, a fierce looking blond woman. Margaret observed her a little and decided she liked her already. Finally she acknowledged Bill's presence on the ground.

"Mr. Williamson ! I actually missed you"

"Very funny !" He grunted, "we was startin' to wonder where you was. What took you so long ?" She shrugged with a large large smile and helped him up, almost falling forward in the process. Bill must have had a little too much stew lately, she thought.

"How d'you find us ?" Dutch called from behind while he swept away the mud on his clothes

"Tumbled on one of Colm's men near Valentine, the fool talked too much for his own good. Gave the plan away while boasting. He's now dead and…not buried." Dutch smiled at that, a good O'Driscoll was a dead O'Driscoll.

The little group didn't linger long in those parts, they gathered their stuff, called for their horses and headed back to Clemens Point. The last time Margaret was with the gang, they had a camp near Strawberry, in the mountains; She liked it there but was aware that Dutch moved around a lot, for the safety of the gang. She knew that eventually, she would find them not too far from here, and there she was, thanks to an O'Driscoll. Small towns were the best place to look for informations, there was always someone who knew something about someone and would spill its secrets with the right motivation.

Margaret rode alongside Hosea, she liked it when he told stories and he had always managed to make her laugh. Of course he was a good talker and she was never sure if everything he said was accurate but she couldn't care less. It was Hosea who had found her, over a decade ago. She was stealing from clients in a saloon somewhere near Annesburg. Nobody had noticed, except for Hosea of course. He had come for the same thing and this curious woman had caught is eye. He had managed to find her in the street later and they talked a lot. When he talked to her about a gang, it was hard for her to hide her excitement. Not many women were accepted in gangs, and if they were, it was more to please the gang members than anything else. After a few months of riding with them, Margaret realised that she needed some time on her own from time to time and made a deal with Dutch. Despite the fact that he liked her around, he had understood. He knew that she would do her share whenever she decided to come back. And so she lived with them like this since then, and it worked perfectly well for everybody.

Finally, the camp was in sight, it was nice, with the Flat Iron Lake as a view. It took Margaret some time to salute everyone but she wanted to. She couldn't believe how Jack had grown, having left when Abigail had given birth to him and John had gone away. The latter had changed, at least she thought so. It was about time he took his responsibilities with his family, it had been hard for Abigail recently from what she had heard.

As the sun started to go down, Dutch called for her from his tent. It was clear on his face that he was thrilled to have her back, it was a long story between the two of them. They had seen it all, saved each other countless times, robbed, laughed and cried. Margaret was special to him and she knew it. So when he asked her if he should tell everyone to celebrate for her return, she felt a slight discomfort in her belly. No, she was not going to stay long this time, even less than usual. She stayed vague on her answered, pretending not to know. If everything went right, she would be gone in no more than two days. Dutch bid her goodnight and Margaret invested the cozy space Miss Grimshaw had arranged for her.

 _The morning after_

"Where have you been ?" Arthur said, a cup of coffee in his hand and looking still tired. She thought he looked funny in his orange one piece pyjamas.

"To Strawberry, fine little place, I'm sure you'd agree. And with nice baths at that" Margaret said, taking a vigorous bite from the juicy apple she was holding. Her last meals hadn't been…the best ones if she was quite honest. It felt good to finally have something fresh and good to eat.

"So, what have you been doin' lately ? Appart from shootin' folks with goddamn gatlin' guns I mean" They both laughed at that. She had always been down for theatrical entrances, but the bar had been raised to another level yesterday.

"Well, nothin' too fancy, I guess. Keeping bounty hunters busy. Been huntin'myself, I can't say I have time for much lately" she said in a quiet voice. Arthur frowned

"What do you mean ?"

"It's my brother, William, I- I think he's in trouble. Real trouble this time.

"Mmmh, I see. Can we help ?"

"Oh, certainly not !" She almost shouted at him, "He brought this on himself, that damn fool. Pickin' on bigger guys than him, every. single. time. No, I can't involve the lot of you in this, it's family business. Well, I mean he really is starting to piss me off with all this nonsense, he's a stupid boy, but he's my brother, it's my job to keep him safe." Arthur nodded at that, he liked the determination in that girl's eyes.

"Do you have any leads ?"

"Absolutely none," Margaret breathed, "To be honest I don't even know if he's alive…But till I ain't sure, I'll keep lookin'."

They both parted after this little chat, Arthur having some business to do with Charles. Margaret decided to rest a little and to spend time some in the camp to help.

When on the road, there wasn't many people to talk to, the closest she had come to conversation was the sound of men groaning over her in dark bedrooms. She enjoyed that freedom, although that didn't mean she slept with every man she crossed path with. There had been three or four fellers these past two months, it allowed her to loosen up a little. Margaret was not the stressful type, quite the opposite in fact, but being on the run, scavenging all alone were not safe activities in these parts, especially for a woman.

Today she had taken the opportunity to talk with as many people as possible. The person she enjoyed chatting with the most was Sadie. Her story was tragic but it had made her the woman she was today. Fierce, strong and with a rare fire in her eyes. The two women had gone in the woods to shoot some bottles and Margaret quickly realised that Sadie was actually a really good shot.

During the afternoon, as usual, half of the camp was empty. A few of the girls were still here, Strauss, and Pearson too. And Dutch of course, a book in his hands, sitting by a tree. Margaret waved at him from the opposite side of the camp and he waved back with a warm smile. They hadn't really had the time to properly talk with one another since she had come back. Their relationship had always been special, and nobody in the crew was certain about the true nature of it. Lovers ? Friends ? Or simply partners ? Their story went back a long time, at least twelve or thirteen years, when Van Der Linde Gang was starting to grow. A bit like Trelawny, she came and went as she pleased, sometimes disappeared for ages but unlike the Englishman, Margaret had never officially been part of the gang.

As the sun started to fade, the camp grew full and noisy again. The call of the food, probably. Fires were lit, Javier would pick up his guitar and play songs to which the others could sing along. The gang had been through some hard times lately, that was true, but they were back on their feet now, ready to make more money and prosper. Of course there were those damn O'Driscolls following them, but that was part of the outlaw life.

Everybody was cheering, laughing and drinking this evening, it had been a long time since Dutch had seen his folks like this and it pleased him deeply. He had been under a lot of pressure lately, doing his best to keep them all alive, and today, being both alive and merry was a luxury.

The little party was suddenly interrupted by an angry horse neigh, closely followed by the screams of young Jack.

"Jack !?" Cried Abigail and John in unisson, dropping their plates on the floor and running towards the direction of the sounds.

Jack was on his his back on the ground and the Count was pranced barely a feet away from him. That white horse was as majestic as he was unpredictable and dangerous, at least to everyone that wasn't Dutch. Their bond was quite amazing.

John was starting to lose it "My God, somebody calm that damn horse ! Where the hell is Dutch ?" The latter came running towards his horse

"Jack ? Stay still, son, it's okay," he reassured the child and started to soothe the white beast, "easy now, big boy, come on." Quickly enough, the Count settled down and turned towards his master "That's it, come on don't be like that. There's my good boy. You're alright, Jack ?" He turned his attention to Abigail's son

"Um, I- I think so"

"Come on you silly boy" his mother said, helping him up under John's worried eyes. "I told you, don't play 'round with the horses."

When everybody was sure the boy was fine, they went back to their occupation and the atmosphere lightened up again.

Dutch took this opportunity to feed and clean his horse a bit. The Count was a good horse, he had never wronged him and was especially effective during gunfights. As to why he was so nervous with everyone else, he didn't have a clue.

"He hasn't changed has he ?" Dutch smiled, remembering just now how he liked the sound of her voice

"No, I guess not" He turned around to look at Margaret. She was a sight to behold in this light, and in any other light for that matter. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, letting some light chestnut strands hover over her face. From the time he had met her she had always been a shirt and pants kind of woman. That hadn't changed.

"That's a fine horse you got there" Dutch pointed her mount

"Hungarian halfbred, I found her near Armadillo"

" _Found_ her ?" Dutch questioned impishly.

"Oh shut up ! She didn't seem happy anyway." He laughed at that, knowing she hated it, then proceeded to detach his horse from the stake.

"You riddin' out ? It's nearly dark" Margaret observed

"Yeah, I think he needs to get out of the camp for a bit. Plus, I need some oil for my guns. You…you wanna join ?"

Just like the old days she thought "Well of course, Mr. Van der Linde. Where are we headin' ?"

"Valentine"

"Not Rhodes ?" She asked curiously, climbing on her horse

"Mmmh no, I'm afraid I fuckin' hate the place" he replied, doing the same

"I won't enquire on that," she laughed, "alright, let's go then."

There was barely any wind that evening, the air was hot actually, for the riders pleasure. That also meant they could actually hear each other while riddin' without having to scream. Along the way she told him about her adventures through the country, about the ups and downs and about her missing brother. Like Arthur, Dutch offered his help but she turned it down once again, saying that it was her mess and that he already had an entire group to take care of.

"That means you won't be staying then ?" He said with regret, his gaze falling towards the ground. She caught that, and felt a strange little feeling in her stomach.

"No…I'm afraid not…but I'll come back, Dutch, ya know I always do" Margaret managed to squeeze his hand in hers and he tightened his hold on it before kissing it

"I know, my dear, I know".

Valentine, at this hour, was still a busy town, the bank being the only establishment closed. The sheriff was watching over from the porch, a cigar between his fingers. The piano of the saloon could be heard from the mudded street, there seemed to be quite a party inside. Dutch liked this town, it had stores for everything, people that didn't ask too many questions and it wasn't too big. Or too civilised as he liked to say.

They hitched their horses near the old church, Dutch whispering little things to the Count before they started walking towards the gunsmith.

"Actually this might take a while," he cleared his throat, "there's a few things I'd like to arrange on this gun. If you wanna…I don't know, wait inside or-"

"Oh don't worry I'll be at the saloon !" Margaret said enthusiastically, "come meet me when you're done, have a drink or somethin', as we used to." She smiled and he nodded, disappearing behind the doors. Barely inside, he found that he wanted nothing more than get out and join her directly for that drink.

Barely a foot in the cheerful place and all the eyes were on her. Seeing a woman walk alone in a place like this was unusual enough, a woman wearing pants, they wouldn't see that happen for the next decade. At the bar it was whisky or beer and nothing in between. The point tonight wasn't to get drunk so Margaret opted for the softer of the two. The piano player was actually pretty good she thought, even though she never claimed to be an expert. So good that her feet started to tap the rhythm on the wooden planks. But it didn't go any further than that, not until she had her partner back at least. In the past she had had the pleasure of dancing with Dutch, it wasn't something that many people knew, but he was a pretty decent dancer, graceful. Oh what fun they used to have, her and the entire gang, they sure knew how to enjoy themselves. There was a time when she was much more present, and then for some reason they started moving and so did she, in completely opposite directions. Her daydreaming was interrupted by a soft voice.

"Evenin' ma'am, would you terribly mind if I bothered you with my presence ?" The man asked, lifting his hat a little. Normally she would have turned him down nicely, knowing where that usually led, but he had been polite and actually had asked for her consent, a rare thing at this hour.

"Of course" she said, leaving him some room on the counter. The stranger waved at the bartender and who automatically poured him a whisky. Regular customer, Margaret thought, taking a sip of her own beverage.

"You're new here ? I ain't never seen you before" the man admitted casually

"Yeah, I'm just passing through"

"Oh…that's a shame" he lowered his head shyly, playing with the aim of his shirt. He seemed like a sweet guy and although his large Panama still covered most of his head, he was rather handsome.

"So, what do I call my new acquaintance ?" Margaret asked, sensing that the guy simply wanted a little company

"The name's Clarence, ma'am. Very pleased to meet you" He answered joyfully, apparently happy that she was taking an interest to him.

They talked more easily after a few minutes, about themselves, their lives. Clarence ordered a second whisky, and downed it just as fast as the first one. He was a very funny man and Margaret found herself laughing quite hard at his stories, a sound that brought a smile to his lips each time.

A bit higher on the street, Dutch was just getting out of the store. He was smiling, for two reasons. The first, he had made some good purchase in there, his favoured pistol was practically anew; the second, and the best one, he was heading towards the saloon, in which Margaret was waiting for him. For some reason, he decided to adjust himself before walking in. He traced his moustache with his thumb and index, ran his hands through his hair backwards and readjusted his sleeves just under the elbows before putting his hat back on his head. Everything was ready…except he was a little disappointed as he pushed the doors open. Margaret, it seemed, while waiting for him, had found herself a drinking partner. A male drinking partner. Discreetly, he found a crowded spot near the poker table, pretending to be interested in the game. He simply watched them for a while, at some point, he hoped, she would turn around and look for him.

Progressively, Dutch's jaw tensed with what he was seeing. He shouldn't have felt that way, she didn't belong to anyone, least of all him, but he couldn't help it. They had never been together, never shared anything romantic before although they always had been very close. One time she had bathed him and cleaned his wounds after a… rough day, shall we say. It was just the two of them and he hadn't seen her as anything more than a partner in crime before that day. However after that, he found his feelings had grown for the young woman, at a very fast rate. He wanted her beside him, always. Riding with him, fighting alongside him. He wanted her to be a permanent member of the gang, but this was not what she wished for. Often, she described herself as a hopeless loner, in search of whatever was to be found. Being part of a group, a family was not the lifestyle she aspired to and he understood that.

For that reason he had never sought to be with her. If he had her, letting her go when she pleased was not an option. It had been a new thing for him, not having control over someone else. But at the time he hadn't minded, all he wanted for her was to be happy.

However now, she seemed a little too happy for his taste with this feller at the bar. The man was younger than him, about exactly Margaret's age he reckoned. He was a regular if Dutch remembered correctly, always chatting endlessly with the bartender. In a way he shouldn't have been surprised to find her chatting with another man, he knew she was a very extroverted woman and that, like he with women, she enjoyed the company of men, both in public and private. She was a man's woman, and he a woman's man, there was no question about that, but strangely enough they had never decided to satiate their sexual needs with one another. Maybe they felt too close for that, or maybe they were just being complicated.

"And then he mistook a horse for his own, the fool, the all town started shootin' at us ! What a mess it was !" Clarence laughed, he was at his third glass now.

"Haha, I can imagine !" Margaret agreed, trying to stop herself from laughing too hard.

"Oh, and there was this other time when-," the man started coughing, "when he-"

"Are you alright, Clarence ?" She asked concerned

"Yeah, yeah, it's just- maybe three glasses was a lil' too ambitious for me." He took a step back from the bar, circling his belly with his arms "Oh God, I think I'm gonna puke".

Clarence rushed through the backdoor, Margaret right behind him, a supportive hand behind his back. Only then did she realise he was quite a big man, it was a funny contrast with his soft voice. She left him a little privacy as he bent over the grass and coughed some more.

"You okay back there ?" No answer, she turned around to check on him "Clar-" Margaret was violently silenced by a large and firm hand around her throat. The son of a bitch was big indeed, as he was practically lifting her off the ground.

"Damn, woman, I thought you'd never stop talkin' ! Not an easy one are ya ? Well I'll show ya" She could barely hear him, all the sounds around were muffled. The air was starting to miss at an incredibly fast rate, and trying to fight him in vain wasn't doing her any good. In a gun fight she handled herself without effort, Arthur used to tease her about the fact that she was almost as good as him. However, one on one with an average man, as much as she hated to admitted it, was a whole different story. Her physical limits were here and there was not much she could do about it. Clarence threw her on the ground, face first in the mud, letting go of her neck for a brief moment. No sound managed to escape her mouth when she tried to scream and her eyes were getting teary. Soon he was on top of her. His legs were apart and in a desperate attempt to at least hurt him, knowing that it would probably not stop him from doing what he had planned, she kicked him in the balls as hard as possible. It did hurt, but not nearly enough, if anything it pissed him off.

"Settle down ya goddamn bitch !" He growled, punching her in the throat. Now, she had been through a lot in her life, couple of bullets here and there. That particular hit made her think she was going to die right on the spot. The pain was so unusual and raw, it was a strange sensation, not one she was keen on feeling ever again. _If_ she survived the night that is.

* * *

A/N: Sooo, my very first attempt at a Red Dead fic. Really hope you'll enjoy it ! I'm almost done with chapter 2 which will be very smutty and the last one, unfortunately; i would have loved to make something longer but I'm already insanely late on txo other stories that I haven't updated in months...So I don't won't to completely forsake my fellow readers, although I fear I already have in a way :'(


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N:_ So, little warning here ! This is basically a chapter with Dutch and Margaret doin' the nasty (or the ring dang doo, as you like lol) and it's quite graphic (at least I think so…) Hope you'll like it, this is only my second attempt at smut :)

* * *

 **Chapter _2_**

 _"Settle down ya goddamn bitch !" He growled, punching her in the throat. Now, she had been through a lot in her life, couple of bullets here and there. That particular hit made her think she was going to die right on the spot. The pain was so unusual and raw, it was a strange sensation, not one she was keen on feeling ever again. If she survived the night that is._

A new pair of strong hands gripped Clarence's shirt and sent him flying on a bunch of crates that broke in the process, letting escape what seemed like apples.

"Back off you fucking piece of trash !" Margaret could barely recognise Dutch's voice there, not so much because of the dizziness, but because it was the first time she heard him scream like this.

"You're gonna regret puttin' your filthy hands upon that girl, I swear." He didn't let him the time to register what was going on and it was soon raining fists on the other man's face.

Dutch's gold rings were literally ripping pieces of skin, not that anyone other than Clarence minded.

"D- Dutch !" Margaret managed, "Dutch stop, I think he got the message"

"You what ?" He left his head to look at her, confusion written all over it

"We don't wanna have you wanted for another murder now, do we. C'mon he's had enough".

If it was up to him he would beat him to death, but she was right, word travelled fast in towns, adding one more crime to his already well furnished resume was the last thing the gang needed. Dutch brought the man close by his collar, he was nearly unconscious

"Now, I see you within a fucking State from here, even she won't be able to stop me, you hear you little shit ? I want you gone, this is the first and last warning." With that he shoved him back on the grass and didn't forget to spit on his face. He rushed straight to Margaret, helping her up.

"I'm sorry I didn't arrive sooner, real sorry" he apologised, checking her face for any bruises

"Well, you arrived, that's what matters. Thank you, Dutch, really."

"You okay ?" He asked, obvious concern in his voice

"God, what a fuckin' idiot ! _How_ the hell did I not see this ?! He played me like a goddamn firstie." The young woman cursed, holding her throat and coughing.

"C'mon, it weren't your fault Margaret" Dutch washed the blood off his hands in a barrel of water and then he and Margaret joined the main street where thankfully, no one's attention had been drawn. It was quieter now, most people who came to Valentine weren't from here and the majority had left. In the saloon it was still pretty animated though, after all it wasn't that late. Poker games could go on till the morning.

Margaret checked her hands and clothes, she was a complete mess, there was mud all over.

"Hum, I'm sorry, I think I really need a bath…again" she admitted, stopping in the middle of the road

"Oh that's no trouble. No no, I've got this" he saw her reach for her pockets and stopped her.

"Okay for the bath but you're not paying for my clothes" Dutch looked her up and down. Her shirt was ripped in some places and her pants were completely ruined by the mud. Bathing and wearing those again would have been a crime.

"Oh no, I am, my dear" he insisted

"Dutch-"

"Margaret ?" He had already won the fight before it even began

"All right, screw you" Margaret cursed

"You're very welcome, my dear" he gave her a cocky smile, _that_ cocky smile.

Although he told her not to worry about the prices, she picked standard items. Dark pants and a light blue shirt with discret stripes on it. Then they entered the hotel, stammered and blushed when the innkeeper asked them if they required a room for the night, and then Dutch paid and gave Margaret some privacy.

What a day, the latter thought as she descended into the almost too hot water. What a fucking day. And she had hoped a few days with the gang was going to be a form of vacation. Needless to say that things rarely went as planned. For now at least she enjoyed the feeling of the hot water against her skin and the scent in the room.

At the same moment Dutch was smoking upstairs on the balcony, the air was warm against his face, he liked that weather. In this moment of peace he was trying to prevent his mind from wondering over to miss Burns. He failed. His gaze fell to the floor, yep, she was right below him. The memory of her taking care of him in that bath popped out of course, it was a long time ago but he remembered it as if it were yesterday. Oh how he wanted to do the same for her right now, to soothe her like she had him. A selfish thought really, because the way things had gone earlier, surely the hands of a man all over her naked body was the last thing she needed at the moment.

His cigar had been long consummated when the door behind him opened. Margaret had her fresh clothes on. They were simple, but it didn't matter, Dutch thought she looked beautiful. The top buttons of her shirt were undone and she had slipped her bandana around her neck, to hide the marks.

"I was told you were up here" she said, leaning on the wooden fence next to him. They didn't need to talk, they never had to. The other's presence was well enough. Together they had done it all, been everywhere, seen everything, done everything - well, that wasn't exactly true, there was one thing they hadn't done…It was not something they thought about though, even if every body else did. In the past they had enjoyed keeping folks in the dark concerning their relationship, laughing when someone called them husband and wife. Even at the camp, one time Margaret had asked Charles why everyone was acting so funny around her, wanting to help and take care of her. The look on her face when he had told her it was because they were certain her and Dutch were a thing.

It's not that they weren't attracted to one another, Margaret was a pretty young woman, and Dutch - well, very few were the people who didn't fall for the old Dutch charm.

Yet, they had both managed to keep it in their pants somehow, never seeking to start anything.

Nothing had changed between them, and yet something felt different, at least for Dutch. He had had a few thoughts lately, seeing in her more than just a sidekick. Since she had come back, his eyes had often been searching for her around the camp, for the simple purpose of seeing her, see what she was doing. And when his pupils finally found her he was just happy, relieved that she was really here. He cared for her a great deal, this was obvious to anyone who cared to look. This care had grown into admiration, and then…he wasn't sure he could or should put a word on it.

There was a sound of glass crashing just outside the saloon, then two men when exited screaming and started to throw punches in the air. It was quite ridiculous but fun nonetheless.

"Men" Margaret smirked

"Can't argue on that." Dutch looked the opposite way as he didn't want to have to look at her when he next spoke. "So, before I arrived, where you plannin' on…doin' anything with that feller ? I mean, if he wasn't who he was, of course ?" He mumbled, eyes still looking away. Margaret wasn't blind, and honestly, she found that little show of jealousy rather cute. She didn't know Dutch had it in him.

"Mmmh, what if I was ?" She decided to play with him a little. Now, he hadn't planned on that question at all and found himself lost for words. To make sure he was properly embarrassed, Margaret threw him an insistent glare and decided she wouldn't let go until he returned it. At some point the latter realised there was no way out from this, he looked at her and simply shrugged. He was about to say something but she beat him to it, which he was thankful for. That prevented him from saying anything stupid in the heat of the moment.

"I'm just teasin' ya !" She laughed, patting him on the arm. "And no, I wasn't anyway, I already have a companion for the night" she reassured him. There was an awkward silence for a little moment before Margaret realised how that sounded.

"I mean - not like that…I didn't mean-" they both laughed and blushed at the same time. God, they felt like teenagers on a first date.

They kept silent after that, discreetly watching the other in the corner of the eye, until inevitable they looked at the same time for the briefest moment.

Dutch cleared his throat "Well, we should, hum, probably head back"

"Yeah, you're right, let's do that" Margaret agreed, her throat a little dry, and the strangling had nothing to do with it. On their way in he held the door and let her precede him. The door handle, which seemed a bit rusty, literally fell in his hand as he attempted to close the door

"Goddamn it, what a piece of shit !" He cursed, which only made the young woman snicker behind his back. The sounds of laughter were not lost on him and he cursed her too. After a few minutes of struggling, he managed to close the door completely and put the knob back in. It was practically hanging but if he was being honest, it was not his problem.

"Enjoying yourself, Miss ?" he asked in a displeased manner

"Oh, I am ! You didn't go easy on that door, did ya ?"

"Whatever do you mean ? I just pulled the damn thing and it fell in my hand. Ain't my fault if this is bad quality" he mumbled in his chin

"You're too strong a man for this poor world, Dutch van der Linde" Margaret mocked him as she innocently tapped her hands on his pectorals. It was no longer innocent when for some reason she rested her palms there, feeling his heart beating unnecessarily fast under his clothes. So many questions were visible in their eyes, and the answer was probably right there too. The fire that burnt in Dutch's chocolate brown irises was accentuated by the candle lights around, and Margaret didn't know where to settle her own on this handsome face of his. His features, usually hard and authoritative, had gone completely soft. Instinctively, he placed a careful hand on her waist and Margaret naturally went with it.

When they kissed it wasn't planned, or calculated, they had just fallen into it in the most normal way. The tenderness of it was very unusual, they hadn't felt this in years, and were not complaining about it. However, Dutch, not exactly sure this was what she wanted, attempted to pull back a little. Instinctively, Margaret moaned into his mouth, and her hands gently pulled at his waistcoat. At least now he was sure. That sound she had just made had triggered something inside him, and he didn't think he would be able to stop it. One thing was certain, he didn't want to.

More than a decade since they had first met, all there was to know about about each other, they knew it. Except for this. The feel of their lips as they came together, the wet sound of their tongues as they battled for dominance. Oh what a sweet sound that was. Turns out there were many things they had not yet shared in all those years, Dutch realised. And the night had barely just begun.

Margaret lifted his hat a little to deepen the kiss and started to push him back against a door. The thought of knocking before entering the room didn't even cross Dutch's mind as he pushed the door with his foot, pulling the young woman inside. It didn't take long for him to have her pinned against it. His hat was long gone, although he had taken the precaution of placing it on a chair, not throwing it on the other side of the bedroom. If one thing could be said about Dutch van der Linde, it's that he liked his things ordered. Especially his clothes. He was always smartly dressed, always the neatest guy in the room, and everybody noticed that. Margaret pulled back, taking a long look at him as she ran her hands on the expensive fabric of his clothes.

"Look at you Mr. fancy pants, with your gold chains, and your expensive waistcoats" she teased him, although if she was being honest, it was a huge turn on for her. That man was quite a unique specimen among outlaws, and Margaret had always liked that about him. After all who was she kidding, Dutch was a strong handsome man, there was no denying that and no resisting it. How had she managed all them years, she didn't know.

Eagerly, she started to unbutton his waistcoat, careful not to drop the chain. While doing so, her mouth trailed kisses along his neck, sucking tenderly at his Adam's apple. The deep growl that she got in return was more than she had hoped for and she felt something flutter in her stomach. Once the garment slid off his shoulders, she realised she had never seen anything as arousing as this man in suspenders. His shirt clung to him, revealing the shape of a toned and broad chest underneath, and leaving very little to the imagination. Actually there was something more arousing: him slowly sliding the braces down and opening his shirt as they hung from his hips. No matter how Dutch loved the burning look of her eyes on him right now, he was even more eager to explore this new thing between them. Oh, he was ready to give it to this woman. Whatever she asked from him.

The heavy gun belts were hanged on the bed post, and Dutch was happy to see she had kept the pistols he had offered her. The boots and socks followed closely after and were discarded on the floor. They didn't leave each other's eyes as they took the garments off, one piece at a time. And when Margaret opened her shirt halfway down, letting just the valley of her breasts showing, Dutch could only reach out for her. However, as he should have suspected, she did not surrender to him that easily. Instead she grabbed his wicked hand and placed it at his side before walking behind him. From there, she circled his midsection to undo the buttons of his trousers. The feel of her capable hands so close to his manhood, Dutch thought, was going to be his undoing, and Margaret wasn't surprised to find him already rock hard when she ridded him of his underpants as well.

For some reasons, when he turned to look at her and that her eyes inspected him, his breathing increased with speed. She had seen it all before, all of him, but not under these circumstances. Not to do the things they were about to do.

Soon enough, there were no piece of clothing left on either of them and they had climbed on the bedsheets. Under the cool lights of the candles, their shadows were dancing on the walls. Just two figures in the night, and nothing else. Dutch didn't waste any time in resuming their activities, kissing her passionately, breathing hard against her skin. He lingered on her neck, where the red marks of strangulation were still showing. With each kiss he made them disappear, leaving his very own soothing mark and making Margaret moan his name. Overwhelmed, that was how she felt lying under Dutch's imposing form as he ravished her. His skin was hot against her own, and she couldn't remember anything as comfortable as his full body on top of hers. His fingers explored her, descending from her collarbones to her breasts, to end up wandering between her legs. He parted them, slightly enough to slip one finger in her wet folds. Then two. Margaret squirmed under him, trying to get the most of his practised hand. Dutch plundered her ever so slowly, curling his fingers inside her, making her legs shake frantically and her pelvis jerk upwards. He withdrew then, licking her nectar from his digits while looking her dead in the eye. As he levelled up with her again, his cock was twitching against her clit and Margaret, still under the adrenaline of the fingering session, found nothing better to do but take him in hand and slide him against her wetness to satiate her burning needs. She rubbed against him like a desperate wild creature, which was a hell of a sight if Dutch was being quite honest. _Good Lord_ , he thought, if he wasn't a slave to his own needs at this very moment, he would have watched her move endlessly. But he was only a man.

In a very _Dutchly_ manner, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, lifting his hips just enough so that she couldn't rub against him no more.

"Tell me you want it" he grunted, having trouble restraining himself too. At first she didn't respond, to busy trying to get out of his hold. "Tell me you want it, Margaret" he repeated next to her ear, his deep voice vibrating through her entire body.

"I want you, Dutch. God, I want you inside me !" She whimpered.

Her few words was all Dutch needed and he slid into her, inch by torturous inch so that she felt absolutely everything.

" _Good Girl.._ " He hissed through his teeth, enjoying the feel of her around him. The young woman wiggled about, adjusting to his size. He was not exceedingly long but God, was he big, even for her. They started at a slow rhythm, building their pleasure, although Margaret's pleasure was quite built up already and it wouldn't take long for her to orgasm.

If there was something to be said about Dutch while he made love, it's that he was loud. _Really_ loud. Long moans, grunts, sweet nothings to her ear, you name it. Margaret liked it more than she cared to admit.

The gang leader had released her hands and they had started feasting on his flesh on their own accord, roaming through the dark hair on his chest and then gripping at his biceps. When she felt her release was imminent, she didn't waste any time to prop herself up and push him backwards until he was sitting back on his heels and she was straddling him. They were sweating at this point, their skin glistening in the reddish light of the room. And then Margaret felt it, a series of spasms when her sex contracted around him. Dutch made the mistake of looking down to where their bodies joined and saw himself buried deep inside her. It was truly a beautiful sight. Perhaps too beautiful, because he felt his balls clench dangerously. He stilled himself for a moment, not wanting to end the moment just yet. A high-pitched cry of pleasure coming from his partner brought his attention back up.

Their eyes connected in that moment and Margaret caressed his face tenderly, yet possessively, brushing his strong jawline with her fingernails. An intimate gesture that he hadn't expected and that nearly brought him over the edge right here and there. God, what this woman did to him. Keeping his composure was now definitively off the menu.

Without a word, he flipped her around and took her from behind with reckless abandon. It wasn't rough but it wasn't the most tender lovemaking either. They both were passed that. Feeling that he missed the closeness, Dutch circled her stomach with one strong arm and pulled her back against his chest, kissing and biting the side of her neck as she held on for dear life to the headboard. There was now a certain urgency in the way he fucked her. Not because he wanted it to end quickly, but because he just couldn't hold it anymore. A few more strokes and he spilled his load inside her, his member pulsating as he rode out his orgasm.

The two lovers remained like this for a little while, Dutch still inside her, his chest rising and falling against her back. A few minutes later, they laid facing each other on the bed, sedated and exhilarated.

"I never really thanked you," Dutch started, "for savin' all our sorry ass' yesterday". Margaret waved his words away

"Oh come on, now. T'was the least I could do Dutch." She took his hand in hers, and Dutch kissed it, his eyes focusing on the bracelet around her wrist.

"You used to make those, right ?" Margaret hummed in approval, "Would you make me one ?"

"Course ! How d'you want it ?" Dutch thought for a moment, laying on his back and searching the ceiling for an answer he didn't find. He turned his head towards Margaret

"Just…put a lil' bit of you in it"

"There's a little bit of me in everythin' I do, Dutch"

"Mmh mmh, and now there's a little bit of me in you too !" He joked as he went to kiss her

"Oh, you nasty silver tongued bastard !" Margaret said, playfully pushing the man away yet unable to contain her laughter.

* * *

It occurred to them that they had not payed for the room as they climbed down the stairs, but the innkeeper was understanding, as long as they paid in the end.

The ride back to camp was quiet, just a couple of complicit glances here and there. The moon was still up and full, it was barely one or two hours after midnight. Margaret explained to Dutch that's she would be heading to the Grizzlies when the sun would rise, to look for her brother. The man's smile disappeared from his face but he understood. Although he wasn't really sure how he felt about letting her scavenge in those mountains on her own. They were one of the most dangerous area of the State, and not just because of the weather.

The hitched their horses quietly, everyone seemed to be sound asleep. When the moment came for them to part ways to their given tents, they didn't know how they were supposed to say goodnight to each other. Should they kiss ? If yes, on the cheek or on the lips ? Or maybe they should just wave at each other, in case there were prying eyes about the place… _To hell with it_ , Dutch thought as he pulled Margaret against him and found her mouth with his. It felt like a goodbye kiss. Not the I'll-see-you-tomorrow kinda goodbye kiss though.

Very early in the morning, Margaret found Hosea by the fire, making coffee. He had planned on going hunting, as usual, though she didn't think he would get up this early. The sun was barely showing above the mountains. They had breakfast together and he told her more stories of course.

Her belongings were packed on her horse already, there was just one thing she needed to do. After hugging with Hosea, she got a little something out from her pocket. A freshly made bracelet for Dutch. She had built it during the night as she had found it very hard to sleep.

"Give it to him when he wakes up, will ya ?"

"Of course, dear" the old man said as he waved at her with a heavy heart.

Footsteps made their way towards him quickly. Dutch. He was just a few seconds late, Margaret was already under the path of trees. He watched her as she rode away, his eyes unable to detach themselves from her. He loved that woman, that much was now certain. And for that reason he had to let her go. The only thing he could do now was hoping for her to return, but for that she had to survive the mountains and this, this was not an easy thing to do, even for Margaret Burns.


End file.
